


It takes a Queen to tame a Dragon, or not?

by LadyBismuth



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006), The Princess Diaries - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Saphic Queens, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-03 15:29:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19466872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBismuth/pseuds/LadyBismuth
Summary: Clarisse Renaldi wants to improve her image with an article in Runway. Miranda Priestly wants the prestige of interviewing royalty. Too bad they hate each other. Or do they?





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: sadly neither the characters nor the worlds belong to me, I'm only having fun with other people's work.
> 
> So this is a bit AU not only because it's a crossover, but also because I’m playing with time. This fic takes place before PD1, and Clarisse has been a widow for like 2 years or so, she would be like 58/60 aprox? Miranda, however, would be the same age as in TDWP so they are closer in age.
> 
> Also: I'm looking for a beta, so if you're interested please contact me.

The car stopped just in front of the stone stairs that ended before the door that would take Miranda Priestly to a higher level, if that was even possible. She didn’t stop to admire the views of the garden, nor the beautiful fountain that adorned the middle of the large courtyard, not even the impressive façade that stood before her. No. She merely lifted her glance above her sunglasses when a uniformed man opened the car door for her, scanning his imposed outfit with boredom while she stepped out of her seat. A blonde woman hurried towards her, smiling, as soon as she was out of the car.

“Welcome, Mrs Priestly. Her Majesty is occupied at the moment, but I will show you your suite meanwhile, if you follow me.” Said the woman, accompanying her words with a gesture for Miranda to follow her.

“And you are?” Asked the chief editor in her characteristic quiet voice.

“I’m Charlotte Kutaway, ma’am. Her Majesty’s secretary. If you need anything during your stay here you can ask me.” Said Charlotte while guiding Miranda through long and luxurious corridors towards their destination, in the suites wing.

She kept talking about how rare was that Her Majesty had accepted the interview and photoshoot, given her private tendencies, but Miranda wasn’t listening anymore. She was already imagining the article in her head. She had to get the perfect picture for the front page, and she wasn’t going to conform with less than that. Her thoughts were interrupted when the blonde woman opened the highly adorned doors that led to her suite.

“Your personal belongings will be transferred to this suite. The clothes for the photoshoots were already put in the room next to this one, for your comfort. That way you won’t have to walk through all the palace if you want to work. Also, your assistant and your associate are in this same corridor, to facilitate things.” Charlotte turned her head to look at her, waiting for her to say ‘thanks’, or at least something that indicated that she had heard what Charlotte had been saying. She merely nodded her head in an almost imperceptible way. The secretary sighed internally, bracing herself for what was about to come. She had heard about the infamous reputation of the Dragon Lady and was not looking forward to enduring her during the next five days that were arranged for the interview and the photoshoots to take place. But the only thing she hoped for more than anything was that Miranda had the common sense of behaving herself in front of the Queen. Otherwise… No. She didn’t dare think what would happen if those two got on each other’s nerves.

“Are you going to show me that room anytime soon?” Asked Miranda, tasting each word in her mouth as they left her throat. “I’m planning on starting now, you may not believe it but this is hard work.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Charlotte smiled, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. She walked out of the suite and into the corridor, encountering Her Majesty Queen Clarisse, who was headed towards Miranda’s suite to greet her. “Her Majesty, this is Miranda Priestly. She will be in charge of the interview and the photoshoots.”

“Welcome to Genovia, Mrs Priestly. I hope that you can forgive me for not greeting you personally when you arrived, but I could not escape Parliament.” Smiled Clarisse as she tended her hand to shake Miranda’s.

“Of course, Your Majesty. First things first.” Agreed Miranda, offering a small smile.

“Where are your partners? I thought you weren’t coming alone.”

“I am not. They are in the city, doing some last-minute shopping. They should be here in a couple of hours.” Assured Miranda looking at her clock.

“Well, in that case we better get busy in the meantime. I can show you the gardens, they are truly beautiful. Besides, I prefer that we begin to know each other before we start with all this.” Said Clarisse, referring to the agreement she had reached with the magazine.

Charlotte breathed again. It had gone well, it seemed. ‘Maybe this isn’t going to be so bad and Miranda Priestly won’t cross the queen.’ She thought to herself.

Little did she know.

***

Both women went back inside after having spent the afternoon walking through the gardens, speaking about their jobs and lives and reflecting on their expectations of the work at hand. They had just crossed the French doors when Charlotte informed them that Nigel and Emily had already arrived and were waiting for them in the improvised closet-office next to Miranda’s room.

“I will see you in an hour for dinner, I hope you like the chef’s specialty.” The queen smiled and excused herself after the brief introduction to the journalist assistants. When she was out of earshot, already in the corridor, she spoke. “I don’t like her. She’s an egotistic woman, full of herself, unempathetic, disrespectful… I can think of more insults to describe her, but I am certain she would take them as compliments.” Spat Clarisse with a grimace of disgust before a shocked Charlotte.

***

“I don’t like her.” Said Miranda the moment the queen stepped out of the room. Nigel lifted his eyebrows at the comment but did not speak. He knew she wasn’t finished. “She’s too… nice. Didn’t they call her the Ice Queen? Well, I was expecting some of that. Some… I don’t know, something interesting. But she’s just ordinary. This is a disappointment and a waste of _my_ time. We better do something about it.”


	2. Day Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The work begins and the tension grows...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I hope you enjoy this second chapter. I just want to say that english is not my native language and I'd really appreciate a beta reader because, even though I have tried to correct my work several times, there are things I simply don't know. Also, thanks for your kudos!

Clarisse Renaldi did definitely not want to wake up that morning. She had to try the dresses for the photoshoots, which meant having to endure the presence -and comments- of that hell of a woman. She found herself groaning while turning on the bed at the mere thought, but got up, nonetheless. She was used to sacrifice, and that day she would have to sacrifice her sanity. But she could take her time…

Emily kept writing the instructions that Miranda was dictating her at a crazy pace. That was better than watching her fuming and mumbling unintelligible things under her breath, though. At least that way Miranda was occupied doing something and not heating the fire that would breathe later over her. Finally, half an hour after the agreed time, queen Clarisse made her appearance, entering the room with her head high and a big smile plastered across her face. ‘Today’s going to be hell’ thought Emily.

Nigel hurried to explain the queen the ideas they had for the dresses and started to show her some of them, shooting Miranda a pleading look that clearly said, ‘please don’t insult the queen’.

After the fifth dress, Clarisse started to feel bored. She just put the dresses on, changing behind a folding screen, and then they would start making comments about what was right or, more usual than not, wrong about it. What complements could make the outfit pass, or the setting where the pictures should be taken. But they wouldn’t talk to her. She was just standing there, moving the way they indicated, enduring their talk and their fidgeting and then changing into yet another dress.

When they had finished noting the changes that needed to be done to the dress that she was currently wearing, she moved behind the folding screen, while Emily and Nigel went to ask Charlotte some questions about the palace. Miranda, however, stayed right where she was and, tilting slightly her head, handed Clarisse another dress, hanging it before the folding screen. It was a stunning red dress, beautiful, but it left little to the imagination with both front and back low cleavages, and a slit that went high up the left thigh. Clarisse took the dress, ready to change into it, when she saw it. She took a calming breath so as not to kill Miranda right then and there and stormed out of the folding screen holding the dress high, not caring that she was only in her underwear.

“Are you serious? This is utterly distasteful for a queen.” Clarisse glared at the offending clothing, just to avoid glaring at the one person that was actually offending her.

“You’re a queen, not a nun.” Answered Miranda quietly. Her tone was not chosen out of fear nor respect, that much was clear.

“A _widow_ queen, may I remind you.” Highlighted Clarisse, choosing to ignore her comment, but meeting her look. If she answered to that she would not be able to hold her tongue.

“Yes, and the one that’s dead is him, not you.” Stated Miranda with her right eyebrow slightly raised. None of them heard the gasp of Charlotte at the back of the room. Only Emily and Nigel did, but they were too caught up in the scene before them to pay attention.

The danger of the Ice Queen wasn’t that of freezing her enemies to death with her infamous glare, even if that glare was actually deadly. No. The temper of Her Majesty was like walking on thin ice. One could think it was safe, venturing farther and farther apart from the secure shore, confident that duty and scrutiny would hold the ice together even if one saw the cracks on it, never allowing the queen to falter for one moment in being the proper lady that she was supposed to be. But one step too far and the ice would break. Just for a few seconds, but enough to engulf the fearless wandering person into the dark and freezing waters below, and then recompose itself as if nothing had happened, leaving a perfectly flat surface above the drowning victim. Miranda soon realized that she had ventured too far into the ice when the two cold blue eyes of the Ice Queen closed its distance with her own, levelling with her, and felt the index finger of the woman opposite her pressing against her sternum, forcing her to take a few steps backwards, her back against the wall. Only then did the queen speak, or more accurately, hiss, in her direction: “Do not speak to me like that ever again.” She didn’t threaten her. She didn’t need to. Her only words were already a threat, an order.

At the other side of the room, Emily, Nigel and Charlotte couldn’t help but whispered, all at the same time “Oh. My. God.” Nigel, not being able to look away from the scene taking place a few feet away from them, kept talking: “I think I have a hard-on.”

“I thought you were gay.” Emily whispered back.

“People are bisexual, Karen” Nigel mocked.

“Isn’t your name Emily?” Mumbled a confused Charlotte.

“Enough with the banter over there” said Miranda crossing her arms before her “we have work to do”. The queen had already backed a couple of steps away, giving her some space, and retired her pressing finger from her chest, but she could still feel the warmth that lingered afterwards. Yet, she refused to break the battle of eye contact that seemed to have started. “Emily, fetch me the dresses from that unpronounceable genovian designer. Or is genovian lace still too distasteful for Her Majesty?” Miranda allowed herself a smirk.

“ _Her Majesty_ has a meeting with the Prime Minister, so if you’ll excuse me, we will continue this afternoon.” Said Clarisse, dedicating a final glare to the shameless chief editor. She put the outfit she had arrived on as quickly as possible and called out after Charlotte: “Let’s go.”

Miranda watched the queen disappear after the door. She still had that smirk of satisfaction in her face when she spoke, just after hearing the click of the door as Charlotte closed it. “So that’s the Ice Queen. That I can work on.”

“Oh, you’re wicked.” Laughed Nigel, astounded. “You actually wanted her to snap.”

“I wanted to know if she had it. And oh, she has it.” Answered Miranda absent-mindedly to her associate, her eyes narrowed. Nigel could almost see the wheels turning inside her head.

“If she had what? A temper?” Asked Nigel.

“Power.” Said Miranda looking directly at Nigel. He could not identify what he saw in that look.

“Well. You know, she’s the queen of an entire country, I think that was a safe bet.”

“I wasn’t looking for political power there. She’s got power over herself. She knows it and she owns it. Now we only need to bring it out.” The smile that formed on Miranda’s face was the promise of trouble, and Nigel knew it.

***

“That… woman!” Fumed Clarisse as she accelerated her pace. “How dare she talk to me like that? She’s got no limits, no boundaries. She’s so… I don’t think I’ve ever been treated with as much disrespect as she just did. Where is Joseph? I’m sure he will volunteer to hang her by her toes in the courtyard.” She suddenly stopped, looking at her surroundings questioningly. “And where the hell am I going?”

“May I suggest your suite, Your Majesty? Because if you went out to the gardens she would know that you didn’t have a meeting with the Prime Minister.” Answered Charlotte.

The smug smile that appeared slowly in her face suggested that she would _not_ go to her suite. “Yes, she would. After all, that room has a nice view of my beautiful rose garden. And I believe it’s been a long time since I’ve paid a visit.”

***

The moment the queen entered the room again that afternoon silence fell as if a spell had been casted. It was almost unnatural the way it resonated in their ears, the way they even held their breaths. But the queen smiled and the spell broke. And they could breathe again. At least for now.

The tension while she tried the rest of the dresses, however, could be cut with a knife. When they finished, the photographer was ready with the first setting inside that same room. That was the moment when everything began to go south again.

When the flashes started, Miranda pursed her lips. And when the queen avoided showing just a bit of leg through the slit in the black dress that she was currently wearing Miranda rolled her eyes. And sighed.

“What?” Asked Clarisse, visibly annoyed by the woman’s behaviour.

“Nothing, _Your Majesty_.” Miranda stressed her title as if it was an insult.

“Just get on with it. Say whatever disrespectful comment you are thinking so we can move on.” Said Clarisse impatiently.

“Okay. Would you stop being such a prude?”

That was not what Clarisse was expecting and she actually found the remark funny. However, she repressed the chuckle that was building in her throat and answered, instead.

“I have given birth twice; I think I can safely say that I am not a prude.” Clarisse couldn’t help but smile at this.

“That just proves that you are not a virgin, but it says nothing about being a prude. No wonder they call you the Ice Queen.”

“Don’t you dare.” Her response had a low tone, almost like a growl.

“I heard that king Rupert died in bed, he surely froze to death.” Miranda was being vicious now; she was drinking in the power that the queen was showing and felt drunk with it.

“What did you just say?” The air seemed to have abandoned her lungs. It was a punch in the stomach. Not because she found truth in that affirmation, no. Miranda was far from the truth. But the fact that she had dared to use Rupert’s death in this stupid war of hers was something that Clarisse had not anticipated. And it burned her with rage. How dared she? Who was her to speak like that about Rupert? She found herself closing the few steps that separated her from the silver haired woman and, just as Miranda was about to answer her question, she slapped her hard. Her eyes reflecting the pure disgust that woman produced in her. She dedicated her one last disdainful look before turning towards the folding screen to change. She was regretting the moment she accepted that agreement.

“Did you take the right pictures?” Miranda asked the photographer, still looking at the space where Queen Clarisse had been.

“Yes, raw power as you asked.” He answered taking pride, although he said it in a low voice, fearful that the queen would come for him next.

“Good. Now leave. All of you.” Said Miranda quietly to all the crew.

“Ma’am, I don’t think…” Objected Charlotte. She didn’t want to leave her queen alone with that devil of a woman. She had hurt her enough already.

“You want me to apologize, don’t you? Then leave. I will do it, but not in front of more people than necessary, and the only one that needs to be present is her. So leave.” Insisted Miranda.

They left. Nigel shared a quick look with her before closing the door behind him. He was worried, and not only because their agreement was quite probably going to be revoked. He was worried because she was acting more reckless than ever.

“You and me are the only ones left now. They’re gone.” Miranda raised her voice for Clarisse to hear her.

“It’s you and I, learn to speak properly.” Snapped the queen.

“You _are_ a snob.”

“I thought you said Charlotte that you were going to apologize and that doesn’t seem like an apology.” Said Clarisse as she finished taking the complicated dress off.

“I lied.” Smirked Miranda.

“And why on earth would you do that?” She was so annoyed that she came out behind the folding screen in her underwear, yet again that day, and confronted Miranda.

“You know, this is the second time that you’ve invaded my personal space wearing nothing but your underwear today. Are you trying to seduce me?” Asked Miranda seriously.

“You’re infuriating and you haven’t answered my question.” Said Clarisse without moving.

“Neither have you.” Answered Miranda, eyeing her suggestively from head to toe and back up again.

“What is your game?” Clarisse asked with true interest. She was done and she would not play anymore. She just wanted to know.

“You’re boring when you try to be nice with everyone. And I don’t want nice nor boring.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate, because that’s who I am.” Said Clarisse as she turned again towards the folding screen.

“No.” Stated Miranda firmly.

“Excuse me?” Clarisse turned right on the spot.

“That’s not who you are, because I’ve seen how you really feel about me and it’s not nice. You despise me. And yet when you came here this afternoon you put a smile on your face and tried to be nice. Because that’s who you’re supposed to be. But there’s a difference between the two.”

“So what do you want?” Clarisse didn’t even try to deny it. She knew it was pointless.

“I want the truth, that’s why I’m here. I want raw power, passion, rage, whatever you have to offer. But it’s got to be true.” Miranda looked right into Clarisse’s eyes as she spoke softly.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Clarisse said matter-of-factly.

“Why?”

“Because you’re not true yourself and I will not be the only one left bare there. I’m done playing your games. You either take this or you take nothing. It’s your choice, but you’ve got to stop being so bloody annoying.” It was a warning, a serious one, but at least that meant that the agreement was still on.

“But, didn’t you want me to be true myself? Well, I _am_ annoying. That is who I am. Ask everyone.” Miranda raised her arms as if to gesture towards a bunch of invisible people around her.

“Yes, because everybody knows that what you show to the world is what you are. Come on, Miranda, I’m not that naïve. Besides, I don’t care. Honestly, I don’t care who you are because it doesn’t matter if you are true or fake or whatever, I still have to be who I have to be.” Clarisse paused for a moment, contemplating her words. There was resignation in her voice, even though she didn’t know if Miranda was able to hear it. She had let Clarisse the woman breathe for a moment. “And now go.” She said with resolution.

“This is my office.” Stated Miranda.

“And this is my palace and _I_ am the queen. Go.” Her tone, just slightly raised, left no room for discussion. The Ice Queen had returned, replacing Clarisse, and she was in charge now.

Miranda left.


	3. Day Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the third day of the agreement Miranda has an idea, and she won't accept a no for an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are enjoying this fic and I apologize for any mistakes my narrative may have. I still don't have a beta (and I've lost hope of having one, so the rest of the chapters will probably come out sooner). Enjoy!

Something was bothering her and she was unsure what was it. She had woken up too early and then had been unable to sleep again, tossing and turning in bed with that sensation in her head that something was wrong, but not being able to quite put the finger on it. And that annoyed her. She was used to being in control. Always. Maybe she felt out of place in that strange country? But that couldn’t be, Miranda was _never_ out of place. ‘Damned be this country and damned be its queen.’ Miranda thought as she adjusted the pillow once again. She couldn’t help but let out a smirk as she thought about the queen in that furious state that she had helped to achieve. She wouldn’t be able to use those last photographs, however. The queen had been very clear about it. She understood why, that was not an image the queen wanted to project to the world, even if it was magnificent in Miranda’s eyes. It was too aggressive. She had seen the pictures after the queen had thrown her out of the room, and she had forgotten how to breathe for a moment when she saw Clarisse standing tall, with her piercing blue eyes conforming a defiant look, her chest raised by that boiling emotion (she was unsure if it was rage or pride) and her right leg one step ahead, leaving the black dress behind thanks to the slit. It was a shame those pictures would never see the light, and Miranda decided that was exactly what was bothering her, even if deep down she knew it was not. Because as she thought of the queen, other thoughts, small and intruding, but clear enough for her to understand them, had appeared.

The truth was she was feeling guilty. Guilty because she knew she had crossed several lines the day before, she had been openly cruel with Clarisse. But she was also intrigued. Intrigued because, after what she had done, she didn’t understand why the queen hadn’t broken the agreement. She had proven to be powerful, as she said to Nigel, not only political but personally, she could have sent her away that same day, yet she chose not to. Clarisse had asked her what her game was, and now Miranda was beginning to wonder if it was the queen who was playing.

***

She knew that she wasn’t going to fall asleep again, yet she didn’t want to leave her bed. She rolled onto her side and opened her eyes to the empty space in front of her. It had been two years without him and still she hadn’t grown used to it. She missed his company, his presence, his comments, his laughter, the way he knew what she was thinking just by looking at her face… She missed _him_. Love did not consist only in romance, there were other types of love. And she loved him. That’s why she had hated Miranda for trying to use him against her, but the feeling faded away rapidly as she realized that Miranda could never really do that, because she didn’t know Rupert nor the relationship that they shared. She was just searching blindly for a tool with which she could get what she wanted. It was annoying, yes, but harmless. She reminded her of a petulant child, throwing a tantrum because she couldn’t get the new toy she wanted. And yet, it was her, Clarisse, who wanted what Miranda could give her. She wanted that article in Runway, and she wanted it her way. If that meant that she needed to endure Miranda for some other days, then so be it. She would not get in the way between Clarisse and her goal, she was just a small distraction, one that Clarisse had made sure to put in her place.

And yet… and yet she had to admit that a part of her had admired Miranda for her boldness. She was not a politician nor another queen, but she had spoken to her without fear. Everybody else would talk to her as if she would break if she heard certain words, but Miranda didn’t think of her that way, and she liked that. Of course, Miranda had also treated her without any type of respect, but she promised herself that would change by the end of the agreement. It could be a fun challenge.

***

To say that there was tension in the air that morning was a big understatement. Oddly enough, the ones that were tense were everyone but the two women responsible for it. They were calm and treated each other if not kindly, at least cordially, which only seemed to make the people around them even more nervous. However, the morning passed without any altercate.

They had been outside, in the gardens, and then moved to the beautiful glass greenhouse where the most delicate of the queen’s roses thrived. There, they had set a sort of booth for the queen to change clothes, and that is where she was at the moment, as they had paused the session to get lunch. Charlotte had suggested everyone not to wait for the queen, as she preferred to be left alone, not having to worry about hurrying because people were waiting for her. And so, everyone had left, and Clarisse was humming a tuneless melody to herself while she put back her black pencil skirt when she heard the greenhouse door open and then close. Her first thought was that Charlotte had come back to see if she needed help with the undressing and redressing. She quietly addressed her “Charlotte, be a dear and pass me my belt, please. It must have fallen somewhere outside this… booth.” She was putting her creamy buttoned blouse back on when the curtain of the booth opened, but the woman behind it was not Charlotte. Miranda half smiled as she held Clarisse’s belt in front of her, and the queen’s gesture changed immediately from a carefree one to a frown. “Out” Said Clarisse as she took the belt from Miranda and started buttoning her blouse.

“I come in peace.” Miranda bowed extravagantly before the queen.

“And you can go in it.” Answered Clarisse as she tucked her blouse carelessly inside the skirt.

Miranda’s tension raised as she saw the wrinkles of the blouse beneath the skirt and couldn’t help herself, she had to stop Clarisse’s hands.

“What do you think you’re doing? Don’t touch me.” The queen ordered, tensing but standing tall.

“You can’t tuck the blouse in _after_ you put the skirt, that will wrinkle the blouse and the marks will be visible beneath the skirt. And if you insist on putting this horrific attire, at least do it well.” Miranda circled around the queen, coming close to her as she was saying this, unzipping Clarisse’s skirt from behind before making sure to tuck the blouse in a way that had no wrinkles. She smoothed the soft fabric against Clarisse’s skin, encircling her waist with her arms as she did so and smirking as she noticed the goosebumps that appeared almost immediately on the other woman. She also heard the sudden hitch of air when her hand first touched the queen’s bare skin on her side.

“Are you telling me that you came in here just to teach me how to dress myself, apart from insulting my clothes choice?” Asked Clarisse, crossing her arms and trying to conceal her nervousness due to Miranda’s nearness.

“No.” Miranda said as she slowly zipped Clarisse’s skirt. ‘I came here because I wanted to propose something to you.’ She did not back away after finishing, however. She seemed to have forgotten that it was not proper to be that close to the queen.

“I hope it is not an indecent proposition, or you will be very disappointed.” Clarisse turned on the spot so she could look her in the eyes, and even though she didn’t expect Miranda to be so close to her, she didn’t step back.

“It is not.” Miranda smiled. ‘Yet’ she thought to herself. “I want to make you an offer: two interviews. One for the public, in which you tell whatever crap you want to sell to the world and I pretend that I buy it, and another one, this one private, only for my ears, no recording, but you tell me truth.”

“Do you think I am stupid? No.” The queen said impatiently, her right eyebrow lifted.

“You’d be stupid if you didn’t do it.” Miranda answered in her characteristic soft voice.

“Why?” Clarisse had a feeling that the answer to that question would not please her.

“Because if you don’t, then I’ll add my notes, in which I usually comment if I think whether the interviewee is being sincere or not. And the people who read me usually trust my judgment.” It was a threat, both of them knew that, but Miranda said it matter-of-factly, as if she was merely indicating the weather forecast.

“Why are you doing this? And I want a straight answer.” The queen’s eyes were two slits full of suspicion.

“I’m afraid I can’t give you that.” Miranda repressed a laugh, offering a half-smile instead.

“And why is that?”

“I’ll let you guess. But I can answer sincerely, if that’s what you were asking. You intrigue me.” Miranda pointed her index finger towards Clarisse, they were so close her hand was almost touching Clarisse’s chest. “I know there’s no point in asking you to tell everyone who you really are, but I want to know even if I have to keep it to myself.”

“I’ll have you searched for mikes, and if you publish anything I tell you not to, I assure you the least of your problems will be the lawsuit against you for defamation.” The confidence with which she spoke made the threat more real than the actual words.

“I already told you, I don’t intend to publish any private information that you share with me in that second interview. So, do we have a deal?”

“We have a deal. Now, save the handshake and get out of my sight.”

Miranda left the booth with a smile that mirrored that of the queen, both of them hiding it from one another.

***

Nigel hadn’t said anything to Miranda yet, but he was not an idiot, he saw what was happening. Maybe even better than them, who were caught up in the middle of a power war. However, even if he was fairly sure about Miranda, he couldn’t say what was going on in the queen’s head, and he wanted to know. That’s why when everybody finished dinner, he quietly approached Charlotte. She, Emily and him, had teamed up in the past three days and he had decided that, even though she was completely loyal to the crown and her boss, she was no snitch. And that meant that he could press a little so he could have an idea about his boss’ interest.

“So, what do you think of the new arrangement with yet another interview? More work for us?” Nigel asked innocently.

“I don’t think so. Her Majesty has told me she and Ms Miranda will be alone.” Charlotte answered, somewhat distracted.

“Yes. They can’t stand each other and yet it seems they spend more and more time together.” Pointed out Nigel, leaving the meaning in the air for her to follow.

“Do you think…?” Her tone changed to one of secrecy and, even though she tried to conceal it, it was evident that she was rather enjoying the gossip.

“I think they are both women of great will, and that can be very attractive in the eyes of someone who’s used to be in charge all the time.” He put it carefully, so he didn’t say anything that could strike out as inappropriate. “What I don’t know is whether certain part of the equation could even be interested.”

“Well, _certain part of the equation_ may have done some not-so-innocent comments about other women through the years. They were… certainly not _straight_ -forward, so to speak.” Charlotte imitated Nigel, tiptoeing around carefully in the conversation.

“Well then, I am sure they will manage to… get along.” Nigel smiled wickedly at Charlotte, whom smiled back loving having had that conversation.


	4. Day Four - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next two chapters will be shorter, but I hope you enjoy them nonetheless. Thank you for sticking with this story!
> 
> By the way, I really wish I could include some M scenes but I'm not that good at writing explicit sexual scenes, least of it in a foreign language. So if you feel like writing them, just tell me and we can work on it (of course, I would give credit to the writer).

The morning schedule was odd. Due to the incorporation of another interview, some questions of the first one had to be done during the last photoshoot session. And so, Clarisse found herself answering while she changed clothes or her make-up was being reapplied, and Miranda asked in between flashes. Surprisingly for the witnesses there, they were behaving amiably. Miranda’s questions were not out of place and the queen answered with poise and patience. She had asked her how much time she had been wearing black after her husband’s passing and why. The queen’s answer was sincere this time.

“A year and a half, I think. After the anniversary of his death some people asked me why I kept wearing black if it was socially acceptable that I went back to a more colourful wardrobe, but I just couldn’t. As you said before, the clothes we wear express a great deal about ourselves, and the black of my attire matched how I felt.” It was a strange contrast, her speaking of mourning while she was half-naked, putting on a beautiful dark green gown made of the most delicate Genovian lace. She was grateful for Miranda’s choice of using that particular Genovian designer. While she adored her, she hadn’t had the opportunity of wearing one of her dresses before. She was in love with the long and tight sleeves that ended up at her wrists, as well as the intricate lace pattern around her neck, simulating a cleavage that was not quite there. It was perfect, and she smiled at it. “But now I am starting to be able to remember him without it hurting so much.”

Miranda fought the impulse to smile back at her. No use in losing her reputation for a moment of weakness, for a moment of humanity. She kept asking, this time she knew that the answer would not be real, and she needed that. She needed to listen to her lying so she could concentrate on how much she wanted to truly know her. “Have you ever thought that the scrutiny over your persona was too much? Have you ever wanted to disappear?”

The look on Clarisse’s face while her hair was retouched and the tiara was carefully placed, spoke louder than her words. Of course she had thought about it. “No. I am well aware that scrutiny is necessary. People must trust the one who rules, and how could they trust me if they knew nothing about me? Being queen is a blessing, but also a responsibility, and I would never abandon that responsibility. I would never abandon my people. They are above everything else in my life.” Sadly, that last part was true. She would always put responsibility, duty, first. But that didn’t mean that she always liked it. That’s why, even though she wouldn’t admit it, she was looking forward to that second interview.

She wanted to speak freely for once. Just that. She smiled inwardly. In the end, Miranda’s ideas weren’t so bad.

***

Clarisse had fulfilled her promise of having Miranda searched for any electronical device that could record her voice in that private interview. Once she was sure there was no danger of being exposed to the public, the doors were closed and both women were left alone in the queen’s suite.

“My, my, your suite! If only the public knew you are so fresh.” Said Miranda, trying not to laugh.

“It’s good that the public won’t know, then. And that is precisely why we are in my suite. You could have planted a microphone in another room, but not in this one.” Explained Clarisse. It had been her who expressed the possibility of a microphone being already in the selected room, instead of Miranda carrying it. Joseph, always the pragmatic one, had advised her not to do the interview if she didn’t trust Miranda enough as to think her capable of that. Charlotte, however, had come up with a satisfactory solution for everyone. And she certainly seemed happy to provide it.

Clarisse, seated in her sofa beside the unlit fireplace, gestured Miranda to join her. The journalist immediately noticed the change from queen to Clarisse. The movements of the queen were always gracious and wavelike, but they were lifeless when compared to the relaxed body language of the woman she was now sitting there, with her head resting in her hand and her elbow propped up the sofa’s armrest. Yes, Clarisse was definitely better. Even the gesture of her face was different. She played with a mischievous smile across her lips and her eyes seemed to come to life, bluer than ever, if that was even possible.

“Well, are you planning on starting today?” Clarisse asked with a grin. Only then Miranda realised she had been staring. Clarisse, however, had noticed. Oh yes, indeed.

“Oh, but I have already started. I may not have asked a question yet, but your body language has already started speaking.” She said while she took her seat, leaving a small gap in the sofa between her and the queen. She was good at pretending and making people believe that what they just saw was not what they thought.

But then again, so was Clarisse.

“Sure.” She took a sip of her tea, hiding her smug smile. “Tea?”

Miranda refused the beverage, she preferred coffee.

“So, what do you want to know?” Asked Clarisse raising her eyebrows.

“How about you answer me truthfully to the questions I asked before?” Suggested Miranda, smiling knowingly. “Have you ever wanted to disappear?”

“So many times, I’ve lost count.” Clarisse sighed, thankful to be able to say that out loud. “I never wanted to marry in the first place. But of course, what I wanted never mattered, not in the least. I didn’t lie when I said that duty always comes first. That is the only constant in my life. That and, as you well said before, scrutiny. I’m being watched at all times, I can never falter in being anything short than perfect all the time. The only ones I can be a little more myself with are Joseph and Charlotte. Other than that, I am always the Ice Queen.” It wasn’t sadness what Miranda found in Clarisse’s voice, but resignation. She hadn’t known anything else in her whole life, and she was used to it.

“I’m sorry for saying that the other day. I shouldn’t have.” Miranda’s apology was sincere for once. She felt guilty.

“Thank you. And I shouldn’t have slapped you, but I am not sorry for that. You deserved it.” Said Clarisse smirking.

“I did.” Miranda laughed wholeheartedly, it felt good talking like that to someone. But she needed to know. “Answer me something. Was it because I was wrong or because I was right?”

“You could not have been more wrong.” Clarisse answered in a light tone. “I loved him. Not romantically, that’s true, and neither did he, just for the record. But I did love him.” Clarisse’s face was so bright just with the mention of Rupert that Miranda didn’t have any kind of doubt about her words. It was true, and she felt relieved. At least she had had that. “We shared something truly special, and I don’t think an arranged marriage could go better. Do I wish that I could have known love as in falling madly, desperately and passionately in love with someone? Yes. But what I know, and I knew back then, was that I was never going to get that. So, Rupert was the best thing that could have happened to me.” Speaking of Rupert brought her sweet memories of them playing with the kids in the gardens, throwing snowballs at each other. And the way he used to take her hand to calm her when she was nervous. And the times when they were talking in bed and he would end up making her laugh so hard she could barely breath. But that train of thought was interrupted by another question.

“Given the special nature of your relationship, did you remain faithful?” Miranda treaded carefully on that ground. She didn’t want her to get mad at her, she just wanted to know. She made sure that her tone expressed as much respect as she could.

“Yes, we did.” Answered Clarisse. She wasn’t surprised by the question, but by the fact that she had asked it so soon. “And it is funny because it was certainly not for conviction nor lack of opportunities on both our sides, but absurdly enough we never got further than a bit of flirting because we didn’t trust the other people involved to remain quiet. And believe me, the last thing we needed was a sexual scandal. Least of it when the partners could be interchangeable.” She couldn’t repress a short laugh at the thought of it.

“What do you mean?” Asked Miranda, she wanted to make sure that meant what she thought it meant.

“I mean that we would have made all the newspapers, magazines and gossip TV shows rich if it ever got out that the queen and king were both having affairs, the queen with a woman and the king with a man.” Explained Clarisse calmly, with a slight smirk on her lips.

“You’re right, you would have made them more than rich.” Laughed Miranda.

“I know. Even though, with all honesty, I would have paid to see the faces of some people if they heard. Those who spread that nickname of the Ice Queen. Because, just so you know, it wasn’t the press who gave me that nickname in the first place, it was people from the Genovian aristocracy and some idiots of the Parliament. The moment I didn’t give them what they wanted, or I wasn’t compliant with their stupidity I was called that. Just because I had a personality. Who would have thought! The queen thinks for herself and when she doesn’t agree with dumb requests she doesn’t keep quiet!”

“I would have loved to see that.” Said Miranda, enjoying the so called Ice Queen with her guard down, telling her the stories of her life while being at ease. It was priceless.

“Oh, I bet you would. I bet…” Clarisse stopped talking when she saw something that sounded all her alarms. A wire. Her smile froze on her lips and ice spread on her veins until it reached her eyes. And then it all inflamed her. She was burning with cold rage. In one swift movement she took Miranda’s arm, where the wire was, and looked Miranda right into her eyes. Her jaw as tense as her hand. “Bitch.”

Miranda spread her lips in what could only be described as a winner’s grin. That was what puzzled Clarisse. She had caught her, why was she thinking she had won? And then, to her surprise, Miranda took the wire in her sleeve and showed her that it was just that, a wire attached to nothing.

“What the hell was that for?”

“I like it when you get mad.” Miranda said suggestively, in barely more than a whisper. Her gaze switching between Clarisse’s eyes and lips.

“So I’ve seen.” Clarisse realized that, on her determination to eliminate that wire, she had come too close to Miranda, almost on top of her, almost straddling her. And suddenly Miranda’s right hand was on her hip, and the heat in the room was unbearable. Her breathing had become agitated, and she knew that it was not only because of the ghost danger of the wire. Her lips mirrored the grin that Miranda held a few seconds before. “You better shut up about this”.

“About what?” Miranda asked, already pretending not knowing what Clarisse was talking about.

“This.” And with that word, Clarisse raised her skirt up her thighs and positioned herself properly straddling Miranda, her hands on both sides of Miranda’s head and her right thumb caressing her bottom lip before claiming her mouth in a hungry kiss. Miranda’s hands traveled around the other woman’s curves until they found her bottom, pressing Clarisse’s body against hers and feeling her heat through the fine layers of the clothes that separated them. “We only have an hour until they bring us supper.” Clarisse said while nipping Miranda’s neck.

“I intend to have a feast first.” Said Miranda, her eyes lit with the fire of her arousal. She raised Clarisse’s blouse above her head and tossed it on the sofa, her eyes taking in the sight of her.

Clarisse unbuttoned Miranda’s shirt, placing a kiss on the skin revealed after each button. But she needed more. She pulled Miranda to a standing position and, turning her around, she unzipped Miranda’s skirt, mirroring the other woman’s actions just the day before. Only that she was certainly not going to help her dress. Miranda’s hands came to rest on Clarisse’s head, running her fingers through her short hair, when the queen pressed a kiss on her shoulder while she tugged the skirt to the floor.

“Bed.” Miranda begged, almost out of breath as Clarisse pressed her body against her from behind, her hands exploring the journalist body, caressing her and finally letting herself be guided by Miranda’s hand downwards from her navel, reaching the waistband of her panties. Clarisse smiled wickedly as she retracted her hand, turning Miranda around.

“If I take you to bed, we’ll miss supper.” Clarisse circled her thumbs around Miranda’s hips as she spoke.

“I don’t fucking care.” Breathed Miranda as she took Clarisse’s right hand between hers and pulled her towards the bedroom.

Clarisse gave a short laugh as she stopped Miranda, pushing her to the sofa so she was lying down. “Well, I care. It wouldn’t do for us to be naked in my bed when the maids come. So we better be fast and then we can properly continue our… interview after dinner.” She grinned as she looked at the sight in front of her.

“Deal.”


	5. Day Four - Part 2

“How were they?” Nigel asked the maid that had delivered dinner to both women in the queen’s suite as soon as she got out. The maid looked at Charlotte for approval and, only after she nodded, did her speak.

“They looked like they were getting along fine. Her Majesty and Mrs Priestley were outside, in the terrace, and they were actually laughing when I got in. It all seemed normal.” The woman shrugged and went on to continue with her work.

“Except that that is not normal at all. Miranda? Laughing during an interview? Never. Listen to me. N-E-V-E-R. Something happened.” Nigel was completely sure of his assessment.

“But they hated each other’s guts just yesterday! Do you think they have…?” She was halfway through her sentence when Nigel interrupted her.

“They absolutely have, I’m telling you. Now I’m disappointed, that was so easy.”

***

It was one in the morning and they were in the queen’s bed, as she had promised. Clarisse laid on her side, with her head resting in her hand as her elbow was propped up on the pillow. She caressed Miranda’s arm absentmindedly as the journalist kept asking questions. Their clothes were long ago forgotten, discarded on the floor of the queen’s bedroom, and they laid covered by the silken sheets.

“What’s your favourite movie?” Asked the journalist.

“The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

“That is the most unqueenly answer I can think of.” Laughed Miranda.

“Were you expecting any different after today’s events?” Answered Clarisse raising her right eyebrow.

“Not really, no. But that’s why I love it. You are so much more than what you let on…” Those past hours with her had changed completely what she thought of her. She knew she had something, but she had surprised her on how much she had to offer as a person.

“Are you saying that I give the impression of being _less_? Less of what? Less of a woman? Less of a human?” Clarisse teased Miranda.

“Stop doing that, you know what I mean. And I am thankful that you have let me see this part of you.”

“At this point you have seen _every_ part of me.” Laughed Clarisse.

“And I am thankful for that as well.” Answered Miranda, half smiling as she kissed Clarisse. “But honestly, it took you long enough to accept that you were into me from the very beginning.”

“That is so not true!” Clarisse tried to sound affronted, but her laughter did nothing to help. “I was absolutely not into you the first day. I hated you!”

“Yeah, yeah. So you say.”

“I’m not sure I’m done with it. You are rather fun to hate.” Clarisse smirked at her affirmation and laughed as she stopped the playful smack that Miranda tried to give her.

“Oh I am, aren’t I?” Said Miranda as she closed the distance between their mouths and kissed her slowly.

“Yes, you are. It’s a pity that you have to go tomorrow, now that the fun had started.” Clarisse sighed, complaining, and shifted her body so it covered Miranda’s.

Miranda gave a short laugh, “You won’t miss me, you’ll be too occupied with that head of security of yours.”

Clarisse froze immediately, looking questioningly at Miranda “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play innocent now, my dear queen. It’s rather obvious.” Miranda grinned at the shocked face of Clarisse.

“What is obvious?” Clarisse asked sincerely. Only then Miranda realized that Clarisse wasn’t shocked because she had noticed them, but because the queen herself _hadn’t_ noticed.

“Are you actually telling me that you two are _not_ having an affair?” Asked Miranda, not quite believing her ears.

“Why on earth would you think that we are?” Asked Clarisse in return, truly surprised.

“You haven’t seen yourself when you look at him or you wouldn’t ask that question. But you must surely have seen how he looks at you.”

“His job is literally looking at me.” Clarisse explained. Or at least that was what she had told herself.

“Well, he must love his job.” Miranda laughed shortly but stopped at the stern look of Clarisse. “Look, I know I won’t be able to convince you, so you pay attention from now on. I think you could fall madly, desperately and passionately in love with him, as you put it.” Clarisse raised her eyebrows in disbelief but said nothing. “And now, enough talking about men. I plan to enjoy what little time we have until I have to go.” Miranda smirked, caressing Clarisse’s thigh up and down and nipping gently at her neck.


	6. Day Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarisse and Miranda say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading till the end! I hope you enjoy it :)

The journalist turned the page of the album, pointing at a large photograph of the queen. She was smiling at the camera as she turned away from the objective, the skirt of the long salmon dress extended after her.

“And that’s the one that is going to close the article. I hope Your Majesty is satisfied with our work.” Said Miranda, an odd twinkling in her eye.

“Very satisfied indeed, Mrs Priestly.” Clarisse answered, grinning, and looking directly into her eyes.

Charlotte and Nigel looked at each other knowingly, while Emily was oblivious to what was happening.

“Well, then. The job here is done. Oh, and here’s a copy of the album so Your Majesty has all the photographs taken in the photoshoot.” Miranda handed a thick book to the Queen and, as soon as she took it, gestured with her eyes so she would open it.

Clarisse opened the album, careful that only she could see the insides. She didn’t know what could be in there and didn’t want anyone to see anything inappropriate. And knowing Miranda, it was more than probable that whatever was in there it was something highly inappropriate. However, when she looked at it she could only see an envelope. The queen looked questioningly at Miranda, but she said nothing. The journalist just nodded and smiled, leaving Clarisse intrigued.

“Thank you, very thoughtful.” Answered the queen referring to the album as if nothing had happened.

The Runway crew turned around, ready to leave the Genovian Royal Palace and the Ice Queen behind, when Miranda turned again on her feet, facing the queen again.

“Just one last thing. Remember what I said about paying attention to that one thing. I really meant what I said.” Said Miranda quietly. The difference in her usual tone was evident for Nigel. He knew her, and there was no harshness in that sentence, not vengeance nor mocking.

“Thank you, Mrs. Priestly. I will remember.” The queen answered in an equally calm tone. Charlotte detected some notes of gratitude, even. She couldn’t know what the journalist was talking about, but she hoped it was something good, something that would make Clarisse to be happy and cheerful again. She missed that Clarisse.

***

It had been a rough day and time had slipped through her hands as quickly as water would. After bidding goodbye to the Runway crew she had had a meeting with the Spanish ambassador, and then Parliament, and then dinner with some other people she didn’t care for. But now she was finally in her suite. Alone, again. She chuckled at the memory of the challenging journalist. It had been fun in the end. Clarisse remembered the album and the mysterious envelope inside it and looked for it, it had to be somewhere in her desk. There it was, in the second drawer, just where Charlotte had safely put it. She mentally made a note about getting Charlotte a gift for putting up with all the madness that had come with the Runway article.

She carefully took the envelope between her fingers, it had Miranda’s signature on the side, and opened it. She recognised the three only pictures that contained. They were the ones the photographer had taken when she got mad at Miranda for insulting Rupert’s memory. The ones she had forbidden her to use for the article, but now she admired them in a new different light. She could see the power Miranda spoke about, and the subjacent attraction she had fought to drown (and had failed miserably). Behind each one of them there was something written. The first one had a telephone number in it. The second, the words ‘ _If you ever come to NY call me’_. And the third one, the one in which she looked at the camera as if she could pierce everyone’s soul and crush everyone’s dreams with her mere presence, had something longer. Miranda’s handwriting was sharp, very different from Clarisse’s calligraphic one.

‘ _This will forever be my favourite, and it should have made the cover. Too bad the world is not prepared for you. Anyway, I thought you should have it, and I hope you appreciate what everyone missed.’_

Clarisse smiled. She did appreciate it, the picture and everything it represented, and suddenly she didn’t want to be the only one. She remembered Miranda’s words and thought of someone to share those pictures with. It could be fun.

_-THE END-_


End file.
